


Feather

by hedonisticnightmares



Series: #SpnStayAtHome [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23584492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedonisticnightmares/pseuds/hedonisticnightmares
Summary: First ficlet/drabble in a series of them that I'll be attempting for the #SpnStayAtHome Challenge on Tumblr :P One prompt a week (which will serve as the title for these), with as many words as I can manage to write in a week. Nothing fancy here, just figured since I was writing, I might as well be posting.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: #SpnStayAtHome [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697713
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	Feather

His mother had always told him that feathers were lucky. And when things had gotten hard, and he’d had nowhere to turn, he always looked for feathers. When he found them, sometimes it meant he lucked into a nice meal, or simply found shelter just as it started to rain. Whatever it was, and whether or not it really meant anything, when Dean found a feather, he took it at face-value, and looked for the good things in life where he could find them.

When he’d come to the farm, he hadn’t known what to expect. He’d just needed somewhere, something to cling to after everything he’d been through. So, he’d done what he’d always done when things got hard, and he’d hit the road. He’d lived out of his car, camped, stayed at crappy motels when he was able to scrape together enough cash in one place, and eaten too much greasy fast food. Honestly, he’d grown weary of it a lot sooner than he thought he would, and he was just about at his wit’s end when he’d found Feathered Friends. He’d been traveling long, empty stretches of Midwest highway, barely a soul in sight, and then he’d seen it: “Feathered Friends Farm,” painted in even letters on an ancient-looking wooden sign, two smaller signs near it advertising eggs and fresh fruits and vegetables. He hadn’t eaten anything fresh or green in weeks, and it felt like as much of a metaphorical sign as a literal one, so he took the turn when he got to it.

That had been about six months ago, and while he still wasn’t sure how he had managed to convince Castiel Novak that he should hire him on that first day, he had never been more grateful. 

He’d been relegated to the loft above the barn when he’d admitted that he didn’t actually have anywhere to stay, but he found that he didn’t mind it. He ate breakfast at the house with Castiel and any farmhand that was inclined to wander in, and mostly did odd jobs. A carpenter by trade, Dean didn’t mind that either, and had taken easily to fixing anything Castiel asked him to, and even some things he didn’t. Which was how he found himself slaving away in the late afternoon to replace a rotted post on the front porch of the store. He was nearly done, but he had been at it for hours, and his shirt had plastered itself to his skin, until he finally broke down and peeled it off. 

He was just finishing up when someone cleared their throat from behind him. He turned and met eyes so blue he could drown in them. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Castiel was possibly one of the most attractive human beings he had ever laid eyes on, and it only added to his bewilderment that he had managed to get him to hire him at all, because when Claire had called for her boss to come in so he could plead his case, Dean had barely been able to recall how his mouth was meant to work. 

He felt similarly now. He cleared his own throat, “H-heya, Cas. How’s the...uh… farm life treating you?” Nice one, Winchester. He was asking stupid questions, and he couldn’t stop staring. Castiel’s hair was windswept and dusty, he had a basket of eggs in his hands, and there was a single, downy feather stuck to the glistening skin of his neck. 

Castiel’s brows drew together briefly, and he seemed to take Dean in before he said anything, “I’m bringing in the eggs from today. I wanted to get them earlier, but I had some business to take care of in town.” 

“Oh, uh, well, I could have gotten them. I wouldn’t have minded.” Dean shifted, and feeling a little self conscious under the intense blue of that gaze, picked his shirt back up and held it in front of his abdomen. 

“I didn’t want to bother you before you started your day, Dean. What are you up to now?” 

“Oh,” Dean said softly. He felt oddly touched by that notion, especially considering the guy had already given him a job and a place to stay. “Well… you know, when I was out here the other day, I noticed that this post needed to be replaced, so I started on it once I finished the fence. Hope it’s okay. I can get it painted for you by tomorrow evening.” Dean chewed at his lower lip nervously while he tried to keep from fidgeting too much. Castiel did things to him. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but he’d be damned if his heart didn’t skip a beat whenever their eyes met for a second too long, or he allowed himself the leeway to clap Castiel on the shoulder in an exaggerated expression of friendliness.

Because he was friendly. It had been one of his selling points when he was trying to get himself hired. And on the rare occasion he was asked to man the store when Claire or Jody were sick, he could sell something to almost anyone who walked through the door. 

It was just that he wouldn’t have minded being a lot more than friendly with Cas. And not just because he made Dean realize why he’d hidden magazine cutouts of cowboys under his mattress when he’d been a teen. 

“That should be fine,” Castiel said finally. “Is… are you liking things here? I realize the barn isn’t… ideal.”

“What? Cas, no. It’s great,” he said quickly. “It’s better than great.”

“Really?” Castiel sounded a bit skeptical. “You’re not just saying that?”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh then, his nervous energy easing just a bit, “No, man, really. I like it here. The farm, the people, the back-breaking work, falling into my bed bone tired in a good way...” his eyes flickered to the feather that still clung to Castiel’s neck, and Dean sucked in a breath, as he stepped close enough to him to brush it away with his thumb. His heart was pounding behind his ribs almost painfully, and while this wasn’t quite the closest they had ever been to one another, it was definitely up there on the list. His thumb lingered on Castiel’s throat entirely longer than necessary, and he knew that if he didn’t do it now, he was going to miss his chance and spend the next several months in complete agony. “And, I uh,” he cleared his throat, “I really like you.” 

Castiel’s eyes widened, and for a moment Dean thought he had made a dire mistake. The last thing he wanted was to lose his job for coming onto his boss, and, really, when he’d said it, he hadn’t really been thinking about the fact that that was exactly what he was doing. So, he did what any logical person would do and attempted to wildly back-pedal. 

“Uh, I mean, you know, because you’ve been so nice to me. Generous and- and thoughtful, or, I mean… you know, just, you really shouldn’t even listen to me. That’s- that’s why I’m the guy that fixes stuff, and not the guy that writes poetry or whatever. I’ll just… go...” He took a step back, and was very shocked when Castiel nearly dropped his eggs in favor of grabbing Dean’s shirt, which he still had in the hand closest to him. 

He wound it around his hand and reeled Dean back in with it, his eyes more intense than Dean had ever seen them. “If you think, for a second, that I’m going to let what you just said to me slide, then you haven’t been paying attention at all, Dean.” 

“Cas, I’m sorry, please just don’t-” he didn’t get to finish begging to keep his job because Castiel’s mouth was on his, his fingertips pressed against Dean’s stomach. 

When he pulled away, Dean was almost too shocked to do anything but grin stupidly, before he leaned in for another kiss in order to chase the electric buzz that had skittered over his skin when Cas’ lips met his. 

Castiel allowed it, but cut it short, “Get back to work,” he told him firmly, his eyes flickering from Dean’s face to his chest, and back up again, “I’ll see you after dinner.”

And then he disappeared into the store with his basket of eggs and his velvet mouth, and Dean could hardly believe how much his luck had changed in just a handful of months. He leaned over and bent to pick up the little feather that had been stuck to Castiel’s skin. He grinned to himself. Lucky, indeed.


End file.
